Whatever the Cost
by all-the-elements
Summary: Susan has some trouble handling the fact that she must soon return to England, and Caspian is determined to help. on-shot. Very angsty.


**Whatever the Cost**

I don't own it. You know that.

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Maybe it was the darkness.  
Maybe it was just that it wasn't Cair Paravel.  
Maybe it was the banquet, meant to be a joyous occasion, but serving only as a blaring reminder that their time here was coming to an end.

Forever.

She didn't like that prospect.  
Nothing lasted forever.  
Not anything.  
So why should this be any different.

Wrenching.

Harsh. Cruel, even.  
He hadn't meant it that way.  
He never did.  
Everything He did was for her good, her well-being.  
But perhaps there was another, greater good she could accomplish.

Deep.

Why did they call it the deep magic, the powers that governed the universe?  
She could not see what was so deep about it.  
Everything behaved simply, reasonably, logically, in the universe.  
But for this one thing.

Irrational.

This was unreasonable, unpredictable, and certainly illogical.  
It behaved bizarrely, as if to spite the rest of creation.  
It even seemed to be without cause.  
Certainly this was a magic far more strange, more complex than any of the deep magic.  
This was the true magic.  
The deepest of all truths.  
The surest of all hopes.

And yet,

She was not to be granted this small concession.  
This one indescribable joy, more powerful than any she had ever felt.  
This, of all things, was to be taken from her.  
Ripped away, seemingly without a second thought.

Tears.

Snarling, burning, white fire tears.  
She had warred with them for hours now.  
Those miserable hours since their walk together.  
He, she, and Peter.

The Magnificent.

He seemed to understand the destiny laid out for him.  
He was willing to accept it.  
He had done so quite gracefully, as if he had known it was coming.  
He, the High King, could acknowledge his fate.  
He would willingly relinquish his power, his honor, his glory.  
And then he would go live a real life in England.

Real.

He acknowledged that the lives they had lived here were the true lives they would remember.  
That they were somehow much more true than their lives in England.  
But the lives in England were just as real as the lives in Narnia were true.  
And a real life must be lived, completed, for the next step to be taken.

Truth.

She knew the truth of His words.  
And yet, this true deep magic she had discovered was still more true.  
It would continue, even after the completion of a life in either world.  
So why could she not submit to this, the deepest, most pure of all powers?

Reprieve.

She had asked for a reprieve.  
To be excluded when they returned.  
She would gladly make the sacrifice, the real life for this true one.  
Her request was perfectly logical.

And yet,

He had denied this request.  
She didn't know what she asked, He insisted.  
Whatever was necessary, she would do it, she held.  
But still, He denied her request.

Defeat.

She would not beg.  
It was not her place to beg anything of Aslan.  
He had given her more than she ever dreamed already, and she had no way to repay such mercy.  
So she quietly swallowed her questions.  
And the tears began to wage their war.

Façade.

At the banquet, she had been little more than a moving statue.  
No outward emotion, no thoughts, no reaction to anything.  
Just an empty shell.  
She had done it all before.  
She knew what to say, how to act, how to be, without thinking.

Misery.

But her front would only hold for so long.  
Her steps were slowly imperfect.  
Her words too impersonal.  
Her face, just a little too melancholy.  
And so she had quietly slipped away.

Stars.

Thousands upon thousands upon hundreds of thousands.  
Tiny diamonds interrupting the otherwise perfect pitch of the night.  
Imperfections, the beauty of the thing.  
They glistened, even brighter through the filter of tears.  
Alone upon a balcony, she surrendered.

Anguish.

And there she lay.  
She had been kneeling, gazing into the heavens.  
As the tears had fallen, so she had too.  
First to the knees.  
Now lying upon her side, curled.  
Knees scrunched to her chest.  
Spilling silent tears to the hardwood.  
And there he found her.

Broken.

An irrational fear in his belly screamed of her death.  
But he denied it, knew it was not so.  
Agonized, utterly broken, but not departed.  
The sight tore him.  
Broke him so completely that nothing would ever quite heal.

Running.

And without knowing how, he was beside her.  
Hands around her waist.  
Lifting.  
Holding.  
With all his might.

Shattering.

The way she clung to him.  
Held on.  
Wept.  
It was earthshattering.  
Holding your everything.

Understanding.

He knew suddenly.  
What she could never tell him.  
It was everywhere now.  
In her arms, in her shaking, in her tears.  
He understood.  
She loved him as he loved her.

Tighter.

He didn't know which was more unfathomable.  
The impossible depth of love she produced in him.  
Or perhaps this unforeseen reciprocation.  
Or perhaps the fact that he was holding her.  
Now spilling tears of his own, as she wept for him.

Resolve.

There was no decision to be made.  
He knew, without a flickering of a doubt, that they would be together.  
Whatever it took.  
No matter how long.  
No matter how far.  
He would not lose something so infinitely precious.

Whatever the cost.


End file.
